Frosting The Cake

Frosting The Cake

A Futa-Town Tale

Monday morning.

Seated at her desk, Karen Silver's attention alternated between scanning her 'in-box' to triage the new day's emails as they popped up incessantly, and politely greeting the steady stream of Royal Guards as they arrived one by one at H. Q. The Futanari peace officers were cordial enough in their responses to her polite "good mornings," if not exactly friendly. Which Karen reasoned was understandable, given that most were members of the elite Team-4, otherwise known colloquially as the Futa-Taskforce.

Not that Karen would ever grumble, as it wasn't in the forty-five-year-old wife and mother of two's nature to do so. Plus, she'd only been 'temping' as the Team's admin-clerk for the past two months. And the job did have its own unique benefits, like access to the fortress-like complex's well-appointed gym, where it was impossible not to sneak a surreptitious peek at all the buff Futanari hard-bodies on display.

Each Guard was a model of female beauty, accentuated by their physically imposing statures. And it certainly hadn't escaped Karen's casual notice, that each supported a substantially sized cock between their long and thickly muscled legs, as evidenced by the outlines she'd seen straining against their tight workout shorts.

Karen had always acted and been considered straight by others, but curiosity was natural, and so was her daydreaming under the circumstances.

"Love you, babe," said a baritone female voice in the busy hallway just outside the office's entryway, causing Karen to glance up over her screen. "Have a great day, and I'll see you tonight," it continued.

Karen smiled to herself as she watched Team 4's imposing commander, Lieutenant Lana Stone, bend down and kiss Riley Rose, her gorgeous dick-girl partner, goodbye. A twinge of jealousy flickered in the middle-aged woman's heart as she watched the clearly enamored pair embrace. When was the last time her husband had shown her that kind of affection? Did that explain the daydreaming?

Focusing on Riley, Karen pondered the rumors she'd overheard since starting the job. How the petite dick-girl had only very recently been transformed from a sissy-male into her current female form, after drinking a witch's magic potion to trigger the fantastic metamorphosis. It was not an uncommon story within 'The Kingdom' and its expansive enchanted lands, but for personal reasons, the tale also struck a note with the deeply compassionate mother.

As if hearing Karen's thoughts, Riley looked over and waved. "Good morning, Mrs. Silver!" she called out, smiling.

"Good morning, Riley," replied Karen, returning the smile before her eyes flicked down to catch a glimpse of the dick-girl's lovely crotch-bulge. It was impossible not to feel a jolt of arousal.

The moment quickly passed when Lieutenant Stone broke away, entering the open-plan workspace and heading for her private office at the rear. "Good morning, Karen," she said brusquely, walking past.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," replied Karen respectfully.

Alone again, Karen looked down at the small photo frame on her desk, the only personal item visible. It was a family photo showing her and her husband Mark, posing happily with their twin children, Ashley and Sarah. Or at least that's what it would have shown, had Karen not stuck a second photo over the top of one half, deliberately obscuring both Mark and her daughter. She picked up the frame and ran a thumb tenderly over the individual photo, showing her son, Ashley, smiling shyly in his favorite sissy-outfit.

"Morning, sexy!" said a singularly excited female voice right beside Karen's desk.

Startled, Karen all but dropped the picture frame. Recovering quickly, she looked up at the tall blonde Futa smiling down at her with jade-green eyes. She blushed slightly. "How many times do I have to tell you, Emma," she said, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard, "that's not appropriate?"

Private Emma Sloane feigned confusion. "What's not?" she asked, lifting a leg and placing her firm ass on the edge of Karen's desk casually.

Karen glowered, trying to ignore just how good that ass looked encased in black combat-fatigues. "That language," she answered. "It's harassment, and entirely unacceptable in the workplace." She made a show of correcting the picture frame as she tried to regain her composure.

Emma was Team-4's newest and youngest member. Easily its most puerile. Attached only four months ago, she'd been deployed on perpetual operations for the first half of that time. Eventually settling in back at H. Q., she'd quickly taken what appeared to be a less-than-wholesome interest in the older admin-clerk. Much to Karen's enduring chagrin.

It was a chagrin, only slightly tempered by the fact that the young Guard was responsible for roughly ninety percent of Karen's daydreaming.

Emma did her best to look confused. "But you are sexy?"

"Argh!" exclaimed Karen, glancing around again to make sure nobody heard that either. "I'm going to report you if you don't stop."

Emma smiled. "No, you won't."

The older woman bristled, "no, I won't. But that's only because I'm a temp, and if H. R. has to respond to a complaint, it'll be easiest for everyone if they just fire me." She gave Emma a filthy look. "So in fact, I'm actually being victimized."

Emma smiled widely at the statement, apparently pleased with herself.

Despite her best efforts, Karen couldn't hide her own reciprocal reaction. She quickly faced back to her computer. "Besides," she said, regaining control of her disloyal lips, "it's not polite for someone your age to speak to someone of mine that way." She felt her nipples harden behind the fabric of her bra and desperately hoped that they wouldn't become prominent enough to show through her uniform's sheer blouse, bringing themselves to Emma's attention.

Oblivious to the effect she'd just caused, Emma appeared to think for a moment. "But you don't actually know how old I am, do you? We could be closer than you think."

Karen pointed a finger straight at the junior Guard. "I know we're not, smarty-pants," she confirmed, her expression becoming ireful. "Who was it that had to submit all your expense claims after the last deployment? Because you were too lazy to do it on time."

Emma's self-assured poise faltered. "How did you do that? Team-4 members' files are classified. Access is supposed to be restricted."

Karen enjoyed her small victory. "Sergeant Payne had to authorize me temporary administrative access, little miss twenty-two years old."

Unhappiness flashed across Emma's face. "Shit!" she exclaimed, realizing she'd yet again attracted the unwanted attention of her superiors; something she seemed to do every other day. Then, just as quickly, she reverted to her previous self-satisfied demeanor. "So, you've been looking me up on the computer, huh?" she said.

"Gods, you're infuriating!" exclaimed Karen in mock anger.

Clearly enjoying herself, Emma took a moment to appraise the older woman's noteworthy body, which she knew was maintained through considerable hard work, keeping it as impressive as anyone half her age. The Futa's eyes lingered on the large, round breasts that pushed firmly against the blouse.

Karen could tell exactly where Emma's gaze had come to rest and felt a twinge of excitement in her core. After all, hadn't she herself often admired the Futa's impressive rack secretly. She kept her grey-blue eyes fixed on her screen as she spoke. "Do you mind?"

Blinking as if returning to her senses, Emma continued her banter unabashed. "I saw you in the gym earlier," she said nonchalantly. "On the treadmill."

"Yes, you did see me," said Karen, her tone equally indifferent. "And I saw you seeing me," she chided.

"Did you?" smirked Emma.

"Yes, I did." Karen glanced at the Futa's bulging arms; the biceps straining within her black polo shirt's sleeves. "What were you benching?" she asked, as if it didn't really matter.

Emma waved a hand dismissively. "Two hundred pounds, plus the bar, barely a warm-up session."

Karen rolled her eyes theatrically. "Gods, you are such a poser, too," she scoffed.

Emma's eyes sparkled at the reaction. Then she too tried to sound indifferent. "No grey leggings today?"

Karen stopped typing before turning to look at her tormentor, her eyebrows raised. "What? you didn't like the black ones?"

Emma appeared to think. "I did, but the grey ones show your ass crack so much clearer."

Karen's face flushed red. "What the fuck?" she cried, then caught herself as several heads turned to look back at the pair from nearby desks. She scowled in real anger this time. "Don't say that!" she hissed.

Emma remained nonplussed. "I was trying to be complimentary."

Karen's anger halved despite herself. "And I told you," she snapped, "I'm old enough... more than old enough, to be your mother."

Emma appeared to consider the statement. "Maybe that's what I like," she offered.

Blood instantly began flowing to Karen's pussy, swelling her soft folds despite her shock. "Why would you even say that?"

Emma looked directly at her. "Because it's true."

Karen remained stunned, clearly trying to think of what to say next. "What would your mother say if she heard you saying these things?" she tried instead.

Emma shrugged. "Wouldn't know, and don't care." Then, seeing the older woman's horrified look, she felt compelled to expand on the glib response. "My childhood was all boarding schools. And when I was actually home, she'd always be somewhere else, holidaying and socializing and whatnot. Then I grew up, and now I'm here, and she's not."

Genuine sympathy transformed Karen's face. "Oh, you poor thing," she whispered, unconsciously reaching over and placing a comforting hand on the Futa's muscular thigh.

Emma looked down at the hand, struggling to think of another pithy response. "It's okay," she said without any real emotion. "My classmates were no different."

Karen's compassion continued. "That doesn't make it any better," she said softly, or right." Then realizing where she'd put her hand, she snatched it back as casually as she could.

Conscious of the sudden mood change, Emma reached over and picked up Karen's family photo. She appraised the supplementary picture of Ashley, deliberately obscuring his father and sister. With his hair and make-up done so well, he was a strikingly pretty, neatly ponytailed sissy. "He's very cute," she said, before looking deliberately at Karen. "He clearly gets his looks from his mother."

Karen didn't bother trying to refute the compliment this time. "He really is," she agreed, her pride evident. "He's turning eighteen this Friday."

Emma appeared to collapse in mock relief, blowing out a quick breath. "That's a relief!" she exclaimed. "I thought I was entertaining age-inappropriate fantasies."

Karen snatched the picture out of Emma's hands. "You're a filthy pervert!" she admonished, before turning a withering eye on her bully. "So, which is it then? Huh? Which do you prefer, too old, or too young?" she reproved, fully aware of her own hypocrisy, given the lewd musings she'd often entertained about the young Private.

Emma couldn't help but laugh, clearly entertained by Karen's reaction. She watched the older woman huff and turn away, then glanced at the picture frame one more time. "Is Mark still being a prick?" she asked.

Karen shook her head in resignation. "I shouldn't have told you what I did about him. He's my husband, we have a family, and that's just how it is."

Emma dismissed the response. "You deserve better," she said simply.

Karen seemed to think for a long moment. When she spoke again, her tone was sincere. "Why do you keep doing this?"

Emma frowned. "Doing what?"

"Mocking me? Pretending to... like me?"

Emma's voice lost all previous swagger. "I told you, I'm not pretending."

Karen felt her nipples react again, just before the shouting voice of Sergeant Dee Payne cut across the office. "Hey, neppo-baby! Is it okay with you if we start this morning's briefing?"

"Shit," said Emma, before acknowledging Team-4's second-in-command. "Sorry, Sergeant!" she called back, then jumped off Karen's desk and began jogging towards the meeting room. Halfway across the office, she turned back and winked at the older woman. "And thanks for submitting my expense claims."

Karen smiled despite herself as she shook her head in response. Then watching as the young Private resumed hurrying away, her eyes snapped down to the tight ass longingly, imagining what it would feel like to bite it, hard!

Tuesday morning.

Karen's entire body trembled as she put down her phone, her husband Mark having ended the call abruptly. On the verge of tears, she stood carefully and began walking as steadily as she could toward the office's nearby lunchroom.

Keeping her back to the mercifully empty lunch tables, Karen braced herself against the far wall's long countertop and tried to control her breathing. Using the back of one hand, she carefully wiped at her eyes, removing the moisture that welled therein while trying to preserve her makeup.

"Are you okay?" asked a cautious voice from behind.

Karen startled despite the voice's familiarity. "Please don't," was all she could manage, unable to deal with Emma's particular brand of humor right now.

"Keep facing the sink," said Emma, stepping beside the older woman and activating the Team's much treasured - albeit ridiculously loud - coffeemaker.

Karen nodded once. "Thank you," she said meekly, appreciating the junior Guard's effort to assist in screening her distress.

"No problem," replied Emma, surreptitiously handing the admin-clerk a clean napkin. "What's wrong?"

Karen took the napkin gratefully. "Thank you," she said again, dabbing at her eyes. "I just need a minute."

"Take your time," reassured Emma.

As Karen blew her nose, Sergeant Payne entered the lunchroom and spied the pair standing together, her eyebrows rising slightly in response.

Emma didn't miss a beat, "Sure, Mrs. Silver, no worries," she said clearly. "I've got some time right now actually. I can help you with that missing inventory." She nodded at her Sergeant deferentially, then continued addressing Karen. "Meet you in the Armory in five minutes?"

Karen pulled herself together quickly. "That would be great, Private Sloane. I really do need to account for everything before the audit," she said, following Emma's improvised lead.

"Too easy," smiled Emma.

Arriving beside the pair, Sergeant Payne - otherwise referred to as J. R., due to her striking resemblance to a muscular Jessica Rabbit - didn't waste the opportunity to admonish Emma. "Nice to see you finally trying to add some value around here, Private."

"Whatever I can do, Sergeant," answered Emma coolly, taking her freshly made coffee from the machine.

Sergeant Payne grunted incredulously as she placed her own mug under the device and pressed the start button again.

And with that, Karen followed Emma out of the lunchroom.

* * *

Several minutes later, Karen stood alone within Team-4's darkened Armory, semi-concealed between long shelving racks of neatly stowed riot gear. She wiped at a residual tear as she heard the security code being entered into the vault-like room's access door, then watched Emma emerge through and re-secure it behind.

Karen began speaking immediately. "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, rushing forward from the shadows and throwing her arms around the junior Guard's torso, hugging her tight.

Surprised by the unexpected demonstration of affection, Emma returned the hug timidly, keeping it platonic. "What's happened?' she asked again.

Stepping back, Karen could barely contain her anger. "Fucking Mark!" she spat. "He's ditching Ashley's birthday this Friday."

Emma appeared genuinely appalled. "Fucking really?" she responded. "What about Sarah?"

Karen shook her head, eyes blazing. "No. He's taking her with him to Sir Greystone's Braybrooke-estate. For a hunt!

Her blood boiled at the very thought of her conceited husband and their spoiled daughter on horseback all weekend, riding high in their saddles as they pursued semi-naked and terrified fawn-girls across the open countryside, alongside a mob of similarly narcissistic elitists and their barking, howling deerhounds. Abandoning their son Ashley to partake in such wicked amusement felt like the last straw for Karen.

In turn, Emma privately riled at the reason just given, hiding her reflexive reaction to this inadvertent intelligence coup. Not only was a large portion of the Futa-Taskforce's energy and resources allocated to liberating purportedly 'volunteer' fawns - who were so often trafficked for the not-quite-legal, not-quite-illegal sport - but said energy was a primary motivation for her joining Team-4 in the first place.

Returning her thoughts to the present, Emma tried to offer a silver-lining. "Maybe it's a good thing? Now they can't ruin it for him."

"But it's his eighteenth birthday!" countered Karen. "What does this say to him?"

Emma shrugged. "Does Mark even care about Ashley?"

Karen was reluctant to answer. "It's more... complicated than that."

"Not in my experience," scoffed Emma. Then, seeing the older woman's continuing despondency, she spoke again. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Karen sneered. "Where would I even start?"

Emma shrugged. "Try the beginning."

Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I guess it started twenty-five years ago, with the Match Makers. Mark was an entitled man-child with decent prospects, I was naïve and pretty, with dreams of the perfect family. The old Crones just assumed we'd eventually find our groove. And I guess we did, in our own way." A look of defiance hardened her features before she continued. "I can handle not being enough for my husband. I can ignore his... dalliances, but I never imagined he wouldn't love one of our children."

Emma made a show of straightening a helmet on its shelf. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Mark's a died-in-the-wool misogynist. He's always believed that women should be subordinate to men, and act accordingly. Following that twisted logic, he considers sissies to be even more subservient, basically just... sex toys."

Anger flared in Emma's eyes.

"As Ashley grew and his true nature became clear, Mark simply lost all interest. And it didn't help that Sarah is just like her father. I love her, I do, but by the Gods she can be such a bitch. Between Mark's indifference and her cruelty..." she stopped, seemingly unsure how to finish the point. "Ashley is a delicate soul, he's..." she stopped again, tears welling in her eyes.

Emma walked forward and embraced the older woman, patiently waiting for her composure to return. As she did, an idea suddenly occurred. "I think I know one way you could rescue Ashley's birthday," she said, looking down at the top of Karen's head.

Karen stepped back and looked up, hope in her eyes. "You do?"

Emma smiled widely. "Sure, take him to Nutters," she said. "That'd cheer up a corpse."

Karen's mouth formed into a silent 'O' at the suggestion, her mind picturing the decidedly adults-only cabaret theatre-restaurant.

"The boy's legal come Friday, isn't he?" shrugged Emma. "He'd be so distracted by all the eye-candy, he won't even remember who was there, or not."

Karen laughed despite herself, imagining exactly what Ashley's astounded face would look like. "I knew you were a filthy pervert," she chided jokingly.

Nutters, was a highly exclusive dining and entertainment establishment, that separated itself from its competition by the blatantly erotic - nay exploitative - showgirl uniforms worn by its staff, who themselves were all universally femboys and dick-girls. Aside from the erotic dancers - nay strippers - who performed on stage, the restaurant's hostesses and waitresses wore stylized halter-neck tuxedo outfits that left their shoulders and flat midriffs bare. Below that, only the skimpiest purple booty-shorts encased their slender hips, leaving precious little, if anything, to the imagination.

Karen's levity quickly faded. "Mark would never let me pay to take him there. Even if I wanted to."

"But you would if you could?" asked Emma.

Karen thought for a minute, surprised at how much she wanted to. "Of course I would," she answered. "Now that you've said it, it sounds perfect."

"Then it's on me."

Karen was stunned. She shook her head in disbelief. "Emma, no, I couldn't possibly let you pay for..."

"Don't worry," said Emma, cutting her off. "I'm acquainted with The City's franchise manager. I'm sure he'd be happy to accommodate you if I asked him nicely."

Karen was incredulous. "Really?"

Emma gave her best 'affronted' impression. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Karen was speechless.

"Ask Ashley if he's interested when you get home tonight. And I'll speak to Joe."

Karen laughed again. "As if Ashley's not going to be interested?" she replied. "And is it true, that the waitresses... do they really..." she trailed off as if too embarrassed to continue.

"What?" asked Emma, anticipating the question.

Karen steeled her resolve. "Do they really cum on people's birthday cake?"

Emma smiled widely. "Absolutely," she answered. "A slice of it at least. It's referred to as frosting the cake. Or in a cocktail if the birthday boy or girl prefers. You can get it anytime actually, it just costs extra."

Karen stared straight at Emma. "Have you ever... paid extra?"

"All the time," she answered offhandedly, showing no sign of abashment.

Karens nipples stiffened and her pussy moistened. "That's so hot," she whispered to herself. In her mind, she could picture Ashley's birthday scene perfectly.

The venue would be filled with excited diners, their loud voices and intermittent laughter mixing into a boisterous cacophony, as scantily dressed dancers cavorted and twirled onstage. In between the merry patrons, femboy-waitresses would move skillfully, deftly serving the clientele while proudly showcasing their own scantily clad bodies.

Ashley would be sitting across from her, dressed to the nines, his eyes trying to look in a dozen different directions all at once, gawking at the staff enviously. Both his and her own excitement would build in tandem over the course of the evening, in anticipation of what was to come.

Following their meal, the staff would gather at the table to present a decadent red-velvet birthday cake, topped with candles and sparklers, singing "happy birthday" loudly as they did so. Ashley would blow out the candles in one long breath before carefully cutting a single generous slice. Then, as all those nearby looked on in delight, a particularly stunning femboy-waitress would begin enthusiastically stroking his magnificent cock - or perhaps he'd be stroked by a fellow amorous worker - keenly building toward a climax. Soon after, but not too soon, the waitress would orgasm as necessary, ejaculating a thick load of built-up semen over the cake slice, coating it in gooey pearlescent icing.

Karen could picture Ashley's hand trembling as he tentatively spooned up a dripping mouthful. She would beam with pride seeing him raise it to his lips, pausing to inhale the musky aroma, then placing it in his mouth. With eyes closed, he would savor the exhilarating new taste as it washed over his tongue. Her heart would fill with joy as he chewed slowly before eventually swallowing hungrily.

"Has Ashley ever eaten anyone else's cum before?" asked Emma, breaking into Karen's reverie.

Returning to the present, Karen shook her head. "I don't think so. He's naturally shy, and Saraha's constant bullying at school meant he never got a chance to have a real boyfriend."

Emma was unfazed. "Don't worry," she said. "He's going to love it, I'm sure."

Looking down, Karen couldn't help but notice Emma's own erection, clearly demonstrating the Futa's arousal at the prospect. A change in her tone revealed the slightest hint of apprehension as she spoke again. "And what is it you want in return?" she asked.

Emma noticed Karen noticing her erection, but continued lightheartedly. "Nothing too sinister, I promise. Just a little quid pro quo."

Karen's expression conveyed her doubt. "I'm married, Emma," she said, feeling compelled to remind the junior Guard. Regret replaced reservation as she continued. "My marriage to Mark, it's not perfect," she sighed. "He might not love me, might never have loved me, but... I've taken vows."

Emma exuded reassurance as she responded. "I would never ask you to compromise your integrity, Karen," she said, smiling wanly. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Go home and talk to Ashley first."

All traces of tears had disappeared from Karen's eyes as she spoke again. "Thank you!"

Wednesday afternoon.

As a result of Team-4's typically hectic morning schedule, it was well after lunch before Karen managed to catch up with Emma, in the Armory once again. This had meant a suspense-filled morning for the excited admin-clerk, fervently hoping that the junior Guard could live up to the previous day's boasting.

Looking directly into Emma's jade-green eyes, Karen tried her best to mask her eagerness. "So?" she practically squealed.

Emma continued playing it cool. "First things first. What did Ashley say?"

Karen couldn't contain her joy. "He screamed, then I screamed, then we both screamed!" she answered, her eyes sparkling.

Emma smiled in return. "That's good, because I got you this," she said, reaching casually into her pocket and handing over what appeared to be a white business card.

Karen took it and held it up. It was for Nutters' downtown venue. Turning it over, she saw 'Friday night, 8 pm, + frosting' scrawled in pen across the back, undersigned by someone she could only assume was the restaurant's manager. She looked back at Emma, seemingly unable to really believe it. "You really did it!"

"Yep."

"You're the best!" she exclaimed, lunging forward and hugging the tall Futa.

Emma hugged her back with vigor.

And now it's time, thought Karen apprehensively, separating herself from Emma. "So, Private Sloane, what exactly do you want in return for this?"

Emma's expression was all innocence. "Well, I was hoping for... something."

"I'm listening," said Karen, an eyebrow raising slightly.

"First," said Emma, suddenly serious, "I want you to know that you can say 'no', and that reservation still stands."

"Okay," replied Karen, still cautious despite the reassurance.

Emma didn't blink. "I want your panties."

Karen wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly. "You... you want my underwear?"

Emma nodded. "Uh-huh."

Karen's mind raced to process what that meant. "I guess I could bring a few pairs in tomorrow," she said. "Or you can tell me the style you like..."

Emma cut her off. "That's not what I mean. I want the underwear you're wearing right now."

Karen appeared shellshocked. "The underwear I'm wearing... right now?" she repeated.

"Yes."

Karen's mind blanked. "Why?" was all she could think to say.

"Because it's so fucking naughty, and you're so fucking hot."

Karen blinked, still trying to mentally unpack the genuinely unexpected request.

"Forget about Mark," said Emma.

Hearing those simple words, Karen's mind arrived at its own decision, a decision she wasn't entirely sure that her common sense had been a part of making.

Bending slightly at the waist, she hitched her short skirt up before reaching underneath with both hands, taking care not to flash Emma. A moment later she was bent over further, sliding her impossibly scant underwear down between toned thighs, lowering them to her knees. Finally stopping their descent mid-calf, she deftly stepped out of the dental-floss-thin tangle and stood up straight again.

Holding the garment in her hand, she could feel the dampness of the crotch as well as catch the faintest hint of her own aroma. Folding them carefully, she held them out wordlessly to the junior Guard.

Hunger glimmered in Emma's eyes as she took the offering. "Thank you," was all she said.

"You're welcome," replied Karen quietly, scarcely able to accept what she had just done.

* * *

Sitting at her desk, Karen stared silently at her computer screen in a zombie-like trance. It was nearly five-thirty pm, which meant she'd been doing precisely nothing for the last three hours, ever since she'd willingly handed over her used panties to Emma. She kept her knees pressed together tightly, only now realizing just how exposed her short, pleated uniform skirt left her. Which in turn only increased the heat and wetness at her core.

Adrift in uncharted waters, the same worrying questions kept racing through her mind, over and over again. The answer to the first one was easy enough; what did Emma want them for? Karen wasn't a prude or stupid. The second was not so straightforward; how vulnerable had her actions left her at work? Could Emma be trusted to remain discreet? The rest cascaded from there; how badly would she be slut-shamed, if her colleagues found out? How quickly would she lose her job? What would Mark's reaction be when he found out?

And yet, every time she relived the moment in her mind, these terrifying questions seemed to be brushed aside, dispelled by the overwhelming realization that she found the incident more arousing than anything else she could remember. Her breath came in shudders as she replayed it again. Emma was right, it was so naughty!

"Goodbye, Mrs. Silver," said Lieutenant Lana Stone, walking past Karen's desk to leave the office for the evening. "There's no reason for you to stay back, is there?" she added.

Snapping back to reality, Karen swept her gaze around the office and realized that it was all-but empty. "No, Lieutenant Stone, sorry," she replied. Then quickly added "Goodnight" as she began logging off.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, stuck stationery in The City's notorious peak-hour traffic, Karen sighed as she shifted uncomfortably in her gridlocked car's seat. The movement immediately reminded her that she was oddly sans underwear, which in turn sent her mind reeling back to the same frustrating questions.

She glanced at the dashboard clock; it was past six thirty. Realizing that if she didn't dispel her fears soon, she'd risk going genuinely insane. Reaching for the dashboard touchscreen, she selected the phone app and deftly scrolled through Team-4's 'recall list'. A moment later, a ringtone sounded through the car's hands-free system.

Several rings later, the call was answered. "Who's this?" asked Emma, flippantly.

Karen sighed with relief. "It's Karen," she answered.

"Hey, you!" replied Emma, her tone changing immediately.

Still in a world of her own, Karen blurted out her most pressing concern. "You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone what I did. Ever!" she said, then continued after a short beat. "Please."

Emma's voice was immediately soothing. "Hey, it's okay. I promise," she confirmed. "I might fuck around at work, but that's just because it doesn't really matter to me. I would never, never, betray the trust of someone I care about as much as you."

Karen almost choked with relief, feeling as if a ten-ton weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. "Oh, Gods, thank you!" she exclaimed. "I've been a nervous wreck all afternoon."

Emma seemed genuinely surprised. "Why? You haven't done anything wrong."

Karen scoffed. "Maybe not according to you. But I doubt the Royal Service's Code of Conduct agrees. I kept expecting to be arrested and tried for treason at any moment."

Emma laughed sincerely at the preposterous notion. "Are you feeling better now?"

Karen hesitated momentarily to consider the question, then answered honestly. "I'm so horny just thinking about it. And so wet I'm probably staining the car seat."

Emma laughed again, her happiness obvious.

"I'm serious," continued Karen. "Just two short months of your, your... attention, and I've reverted to a hormonal teenager!"

"Do you want me to stop?" asked Emma teasingly.

"No," answered Karen, surprised by just how quickly she'd answered. "Where are you now?" she asked in turn.

"At the barracks, in my room."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

Karen shifted in her seat again, feeling the enduring tingle between her legs spike in intensity, driving her to distraction. "Have you... used them?"

Emma considered the question. "Are you asking if I've masturbated with them yet?"

Karen felt her adrenaline surge. "I am."

"I have."

Karen's heart thumped against her ribcage. "Did you smell them?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"I did. Your scent is so fucking sweet."

Delight instantly replaced all Karen's previous anxiety. Buoyed by the emotion, she quickly indulged her curiosity. "How many times do you masturbate a day?"

If Emma was bothered by the question, it wasn't apparent. "Usually twice. When I wake up, and before I go to sleep."

"So you've cum twice today already?" asked Karen in amazement.

"Uh-huh," answered Emma nonchalantly.

"Could you cum again? Right now?"

"For you, no problem," came the reply.

"Touch yourself for me," purred Karen.

"Fuck yes," replied Emma, clearly starting to do just that.

Looking sideways, Karen noted how dark it was outside. Combined with her car window's privacy tinting, there was no way anyone outside could see in. "Don't cum yet," she said.

A moment later she was unbuttoning her sheer blouse, pulling it open to expose the black lacey bra that would otherwise have matched her thong. Picking up her cellphone, she opened the camera app with one hand while using the other to pull down the left bra cup.

Switching the camera to 'selfie' mode, she carefully centered the frame on her exposed breast and its hard nipple, impressed by how little her hands were shaking. She smiled at the image being displayed, pleased at how plump the soft flesh remained, though perhaps sitting slightly lower than in her youth. Displayed prominently, the barbell nipple-piercing she'd acquired in a fruitless attempt to re-interest Mark, reflected the dashboard's lights. With her excitement rising quickly, she clicked the shutter-button, opened a new text message and attached the photo. With barely any hesitation, she pressed 'send'.

Karen heard the 'ping' of Emma's phone, receiving the message.

A moment later and Emma cried out, "Holy fuck!"

Karen's smile widened as her confidence soared. "Do you like it?"

"It's the sexiest thing I've ever fucking seen!"

Pausing for a beat, Karen considered what she thought needed to be said next, then spoke solicitously. "We can't talk at work anymore, not in the office anyway. It's too dangerous."

"I understand," acknowledged Emma, her voice sounding more strained than it had before.

A thought occurred to Karen. "And from now on, I want you to call me, Miss Silver."

Emma caught the variation. "Not. Mrs.?"

"No, definitely Miss."

"That sounds like a dominatrix," said Emma, her private endeavors becoming more apparent.

Karen smiled at the thought. "Are you going to do what I tell you?" she asked, effecting a deliberately husky tone.

"Yes, Miss Silver," answered Emma, her breath becoming labored.

"Will you be in the gym in the morning?" asked Karen.

"Will you... be wearing... the grey leggings, Miss Silver?" asked Emma, her voice starting to fail her.

"Of course."

"Fuck yes!" cried the junior Guard loudly, clearly reaching her third release of the day.

Karen barely stifled a gleeful laugh. "Don't you dare save that picture as my 'caller ID' either, you filthy pervert!" she admonished, before abruptly hanging up.

Thursday morning.

Covered in an appreciable veneer of beading perspiration, Karen's face remained a mask of determined stoicism as she jogged vigorously on an industrial treadmill, one of many located to the side of the Royal Guard's training gym. Wearing her light-grey leggings as promised, along with the matching sports bra beneath a flimsy white cotton singlet, her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. Behind her, various Guards from all the different Units grunted and strained through their own exertions, tossing around free weights or isolating their ripped muscles via numerous complex machines.

She barely acknowledged a new arrival as they began walking on the previously vacant machine beside her own, instead remaining focused on her pace and breathing.

"Good morning, Miss Silver," said the new arrival.

Surprised, Karen looked over to see Emma's beaming face looking back, bouncing up and down as she began running herself. What truly surprised the older woman, however, was just how happy she felt to see the junior Guard. Almost comforted. The resultant effect caused her heart to pound as much from affection as physical exertion.

Karen carefully suppressed her own smile as she resumed looking forward. "Good morning, Private Sloane," she said casually.

The pair continued their aerobic regimes in silence for another fifteen minutes before Karen adjusted her speed down to a brisk walk.

Beside her, Emma matched pace before speaking again. "Did you show Ashley the reservation?" she asked, unable to suppress her eagerness for a response.

"I did," answered Karen, her own excitement finally emerging. "Gods, it makes me so happy to see him happy." But her expression fell before she continued. "I just wish I could make it last."

Emma seemed to catch the older woman's inference. "What's he going to do after graduation? College? Get a job?"

Karen shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think he does either. He's only ever wanted to be a wife. To love with all his heart and be loved in return."

"So it's the Match Makers then?" figured Emma dubiously.

"And risk ending up like me, with someone like Mark?" said Karen, shaking her head again. "What he really needs is a wonderful dick-girl like Riley Rose."

Emma tried again. "There are always the witches? Or better yet, what about Finishing School?"

Karen became suddenly incredulous. "Finishing School?"

"Why not?" answered Emma. "With a diploma in grooming and deportment, he'd qualify to register as a Concubine. And then you're talking high society, baby."

The thought of her beloved son becoming one of The Kingdom's most exclusive pleasure-workers sparked the older woman's fancy before her expression sank. "We're not made of money. We can't afford three years of professional sissy-training."

Emma appeared nonplused. "A scholarship then? How are his grades?"

"His grades are fine, better than fine actually. But he'd still need a sponsor."

"Easy!" said Emma. "I'll sponsor him."

"You'll what?" replied Karen, almost choking. "How?"

Emma smiled widely as she so often did when hinting at her life outside work. "My Great Aunt owns a private college in the country. It's no Queen's Academy," she hastened to clarify, simultaneously trying to downplay the revelation, "but it's earned a distinguished reputation, and more than a few graduates have ended up in the Palace, servicing the nobility."

"Who in the Gods' names are you?" demanded Karen, her expression now one of astonishment. "You grew up in boarding schools, you dine at Nutters with regularity, and you have a family member who just happens to own a Finishing School. Not to mention, Sergeant Payne constantly referring to you as a neppo-baby. Even I know what that expression means, despite being old."

Emma shrugged. "I thought you had access to my file?"

Karen glowered. "Just your payroll and work credit card details, Private."

"Phew! That's a relief," smirked the junior Guard. "You can just think of me as your horny godmother, then."

Karen's glower became an affected scowl.

"Speaking of relief," continued Emma, ignoring the reaction, "I'd be a lot happier if I could appreciate your ass. I can't see a thing from here beside you."

Karen's previously theatrical admonition transformed into a thoughtful expression. "Do you promise that this... infatuation you have with me, it's not just something frivolous?"

All traces of her characteristic irresponsibility disappeared before Emma answered. "I want you in my life," was all she said.

Saying nothing more, Karen simply reached forward and pressed the treadmill's stop button, bringing the exercise machine to a standstill and whispering clandestinely. "Wait a moment, and then follow me."

Shutting down her own machine, Emma waited a beat, then trailed the older woman through the gym at a discreet distance, heading toward the change rooms.

Rather than enter the women's amenities, Karen ducked into the disabled facility instead. Gesturing through the semi-closed door, she beckoned for Emma to hurry and join her. "Quickly," she hissed, shutting and locking the door just as soon as the junior Guard was through.

"What are we doing in here?" asked Emma.

"Giving you that better view," answered Karen provocatively, moving across to the vanity and placing a hand on either side of the sink. Bending slightly at the waist, she pointed her toned ass directly at the Futa. "How's that?" she asked.

Emma gawped at the wildly provocative display, her cock quickly hardening in her gym shorts. "By the Gods, you have no idea how badly I want to fuck that," she confessed, as if Karen couldn't hear her.

Karen maintained their eye contact in the mirror. "Then get over here," she encouraged with atypical boldness.

Emma didn't hesitate, reaching into her shorts and underwear she pulled her ten-inch cock out with vigor and moved to stand directly behind Karen, grasping the tight waistband of the older woman's leggings as she did so, fully intending to yank them down.

Karen reached back quickly and clamped her own hands over the Futa's. "No," she said, "leave them up." Seeing the confusion on Emma's face, she widened her stance slightly to create a thigh-gap just below her pussy. "Rub it between my legs," she instructed.

Understanding, Emma slid her swollen cock between Karen's smooth thighs, feeling the top of it rub under the older woman's swollen pussy lips, separated by only the thinnest layer of tight lycra. The heat between their sweaty bodies quickly intensified as the Futa reached around and began sliding her hands up under Karen's singlet, until her hands cupped the older woman's ample breasts over her sports bra.

Karen gasped at the powerful embrace, the feel of Emma's large breasts pushing into her back.

Resting her chin on Karen's shoulder, Emma locked eyes with the older woman in the mirror and began softly kissing and licking her slender neck, tasting her salty sweat. Seeing Karen's eyes close and a moan escape her lips, the Futa began slowly thrusting her hips back and forth, sliding her cock in and out.

Karen moaned again as the Futa's rigid shaft played peek-a-boo between her thighs, massaging her swollen and saturated pussy lips as it did so, the sensation causing pure delight in her core. As Emma began squeezing her nipples between thumb and forefinger, she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm begin to build. Opening her eyes again, she kept them fixed on Emma's in the mirror. "Tell me why you think I'm sexy," she implored.

Emma continued her neck kisses as she considered the question. "At first it was just your maturity, your classiness. You had gravitas, in fucking spades." she said, her body spasming involuntarily as her own pleasure began searching for a much-needed climax. "But then I spoke to you, and you listened to me, cared about me. You're so kind, compassionate, selfless." She spasmed again. "You put the mother in MILF, and I've got major fucking mommy-issues," she growled.

"By the Gods!" was all Karen could gasp as her head lolled back, Emma resuming her previous sucking on her neck, pulling her upwards until she was forced to balance on the tips of her toes.

The pair soon fell into a lust-fueled rhythm, their breathing synchronizing, the heat between them becoming volcano-like. Karen had never felt such passion, and the intimacy of their intermittent eye contact after what Emma had just said, absolutely laid her bare. A moment later and her orgasm arrived, causing her to cry out in pleasure as her body went rigid and her knees buckled.

Holding Karen up off the ground, Emma moaned as she too reached climax, cradling the older woman as her cock spewed thick ropes of cum that splattered against the vanity and mirror in front of them. The climax lasted for a good while, during which time Karen remained braced in her muscular arms, seemingly barely conscious.

Finally exhausting her lust, Emma lowered Karen back onto her feet. "Can you stand?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Karen, her breathing still ragged. "I've never cum like that before. So hard!"

Emma guffawed as she nearly collapsed herself. "Me neither," she agreed.

Overcome by the moment, Karen turned around inside Emma's arms and moved her lips up to meet the Futa's. "Thank you, baby," she said, before closing the gap and initiating a passionate kiss.

"For what?" asked Emma, speaking into Karen's mouth as she eagerly accepted the older woman's tongue.

Karen smiled. "For making me feel special."

Friday afternoon.

Once again stuck in gridlock traffic, Karen tried to rein in her perpetual frustration, as it increased minute by minute, spurred on by her lingering arousal. Since the highly erotic mutual-masturbation session with Emma in the gym yesterday, their respective work schedules had conspired to ensure that the two fast friends didn't even have a chance to talk, let alone try and repeat the experience. In addition, her enthusiastic anticipation of Ashley's impending birthday party at Nutters - due to start in just a few hours - only added inflammatory fuel to the already smoldering fire of her libido. If she could just get home, then her detachable showerhead might take some of the edge off the vexation, just as it had before work this morning. She shook her head. No, that wouldn't be enough.

Lowering a hand to the hem of her skirt, she spread her thighs and placed a hand over her already wet panties, pressing her fingers against her swollen labia. With her other hand, she dialed Emma's number again.

Emma answered after only two rings. "Hello, Miss Silver," she said provocatively. "I was hoping that you'd call."

Karen's involuntary reaction to the greeting was pure affection. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, baby?" she replied, applying more pressure to her tingling center.

Emma reacted in turn. "And I fucking love hearing you call me, baby."

Feeling pleasure start to build throughout her body, Karen got straight to the point. "I want to see your cock again."

"Where are you?" responded Emma, her tone amused.

"In the car," answered Karen, her voice betraying her desperation. "I'm going insane."

"I understand," said Emma, sounding as if she was moving around. "Hold on."

Karen's phone pinged a moment later. Holding it up, she opened the attachment. The reward was a clear photo of Emma's thick cock, gripped tightly in its owner's powerful hand. It was spectacular!

Pulling her panties aside, Karen slipped a questing finger into herself and moaned. "I didn't know cocks could be so beautiful," she said.

"You're the one who's beautiful."

"I want to believe that," she moaned, increasing the vigor of her solo ministrations. Indulging in the moment, a memory floated back to her from the recent past. "Can I tell you a sexy story?" she asked breathlessly.

"Gods yes," answered Emma quickly.

"A few years ago, Mark and I treated ourselves to a getaway. It was our wedding anniversary, a tropical resort escape. I got a little over-excited..." she moaned again, "and bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion." She slipped a second finger in beside the first, shuddering as she curled them up into her core. "The sales assistant called it an athletic-cut."

The sound of an impatient car's horn honking dragged Karen back to reality and the realization that the vehicles around her were moving again. Consciously trying to control her trembling foot, she began creeping forward, thanking the Gods for keeping her from crashing before stopping again less than a hundred meters down the road. Keeping her foot stomped on the brake, she resumed pleasuring herself, a gasp escaping from her lips.

"Keep going," said Emma encouragingly, her own voice now husky.

Karen closed her eyes. "It bordered on scandalous, so shiny, so tight, with a thong back. It was metallic-peach, and when it stretched, the material became semi-transparent." She pinched a nipple with her free hand, jerking as a sharp sting of pleasure rewarded her touch. "I may as well have been topless; my nipple piercings were so obvious. But you could see my pubic hair too, shaved into a narrow landing strip. I imagined strangers staring at me as I exposed myself around the pool."

"That's so fucking hot!" gasped Emma. "Did Mark fuck you senseless?" she asked, so turned on by the older woman's words that she momentarily forgot just how much she hated the bastard.

Karen's questing hand stopped abruptly. "No," she answered, her tone suddenly cool. "He spent the entire trip in the casino, or sleeping off his hangovers on the couch."

"That fucking idiot!" assessed Emma. "I would've pushed you back on a deckchair in the sun, and nibbled at your pussy with my teeth through the material, in front of all the other guests, families included."

The dirty words alone nearly tipped Karen over the edge. Ever so carefully, she moved her fingers again, riding the crest of a pleasure-wave. After several long moments, she spoke again. "I still have it."

"The swimsuit?" asked Emma.

"Mm-hm."

Emma groaned. "Will you wear it for me?"

Karen's eyes rolled back under their lids. "Of course I will, baby."

Emma groaned again, her own arousal rapidly rising, driven by pure lust. "When?"

"Mark's gone all weekend," answered Karen without reservation. She inhaled deeply before continuing. "And I'm going to tell Ashley about you tonight."

"You are?" replied Emma, her shock evident.

Realizing what she'd just said, Karen reconsidered the implications and found her heart to be at peace with the decision. After all, Ashley was going to be in for just as wild a ride as she had been herself over the last week. "Yes, I am," she confirmed, shifting her finger's attention to her clitoris. "After all, he should know who his horny godmother is, shouldn't he?"

Emma's voice reflected her fervor, accompanied by the rhythmic slapping sound of her energetic cock-jerking. "I want to be here for you," she declared, "now and forever!"

Karen threw back her head and screamed loudly, her orgasm wracking her body and crippling her muscles. In her mind, she pictured Emma holding her tightly, kissing her passionately. As she did so, her body convulsed against her seatbelt like it was a straitjacket, her jaw clenched tight.

Finally recovering, her muscles slowly relaxing, Karen carefully pointed her phone's camera at her soaking pussy. Gently spreading her sex-lips with moisture-coated fingers, she exposed her coral-pink core and snapped another candid. A moment later and the image arrived at Emma.

"Ahh, Fuck!" roared Emma, as her own orgasm erupted down the line.

Karen smiled, her feelings of love growing exponentially as she heard the Futa's enthusiastic pleasure release. She smiled to herself wickedly as she spoke again. "Will you frost that cake and eat it too?"

Emma panted hoarsely. "Every fucking day... Miss Silver."